


Be Professional

by briaranise



Series: Pharmacy AU [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Humor, M/M, PWP, Smut, pharmacy AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-01
Updated: 2016-02-01
Packaged: 2018-05-17 14:10:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5873494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/briaranise/pseuds/briaranise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alfred can't help it--his senior pharmacist's ass is perfect. Among other things. </p><p>AKA I am a pharmacist and yeah I really have no excuse</p>
            </blockquote>





	Be Professional

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EmpressVegah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmpressVegah/gifts).



> HAPPY BIRTHDAY EVVYYYYYYYYYY  
> Have some pharmacy AU smut! I hope you have a great day!!! <3 <3 <3

“Alfred, watch the front. I need to quickly make this cream for Mr Vargas.”

Alfred watched his senior pharmacist slip around the partition into the compounding area. His eyes lingered on Arthur Kirkland’s pert bottom, covered by clothing and yet so tempting. Arthur’s white coat was far too large on him, and the way it hung from his slender frame made Alfred want to strip the other man slowly and sensually. 

The bell on the back counter dinged, and Alfred hurried out to greet the customer with a cheerful smile. The smile faltered slowly as he assured the woman that _no_ , taking cough syrup was not going to make her into a destitute drug addict and _no_ , giving her child the correct dose of paracetamol was not going to stop the child’s brain functions. 

After the woman left with a newly-purchased pack of children’s paracetamol and some throat lozenges—despite his efforts in telling her that she needed to loosen the mucous in her chest first, and that the chesty cough mixtures didn’t even have anything remotely addictive in them—he trudged back into the dispensary and peered over the partition, pouting. 

Arthur barely looked up as he measured out the exact amount of required coal tar. “Difficult customer?”

“Why do I have to deal with them?” Alfred whined, sighing dramatically. “Why can’t you? I can make the cream. You know they listen to you more.”

“I did have to deal with them,” Arthur said mildly, checking the side drawers with a frown, “back when I was an intern. Now it’s your turn. Where did you put the mortar?”

Alfred circled around the partition. “Up there,” he said after a moment innocently, pointing at a cupboard that was well out of Arthur’s reach. “There was no space anywhere else.”

“There is _literally_ an empty drawer there labelled ‘mortar’,” Arthur retorted, glaring at Alfred for a moment before reaching for the cupboard. He leaned against the bench top, lifting up onto is tiptoes, his white coat riding up and showing that fabulous, trouser-covered ass—

This was his chance.

Alfred stepped forward, grinding lightly against the other man’s behind while his hands began fumbling with Arthur’s trousers. 

Arthur squeaked and tried to elbow him. “W-what are you doing, you idiot?”

“I miss you, Artie.” Alfred leaned down to nibble on the shorter man’s ear. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“You fucked me last night,” Arthur reminded him, trying to wriggle away. “And I blew you this morning. Besides, we’re at work. Be professional, won’t you?”

Alfred retaliated by grabbing the other man’s crotch and watching as the Englishman’s face went bright red. “There’s no one here,” he said, “no one except us. If a customer comes in, they’ll ring the bell. They can’t see us.”

“But I—I have to make the cream—“ Arthur gasped quietly as Alfred eased his trousers down so that they piled around his knees. They were soon joined by his boxers, and Arthur shivered at the feeling of Alfred’s clothed erection pressing against his bare skin. Alfred gave him a cheeky grin, and retrieved the mortar and pestle. 

“You can still make it,” he said, beginning to slowly stroke Arthur. “I’ll just be using some of your materials.”

He leaned over Arthur, coated his fingers with some of the aqueous cream that had been so carefully weighed and measured, and eased two fingers inside of the shorter man as soon as he got a nod of consent. Arthur was still loose from their recent lovemaking—it wasn’t Alfred’s fault that his boyfriend was so damn irresistible—and soon he was squirming and moaning, bent over the benchtop as Alfred fingered him slowly. 

“You gave up really quickly,” Alfred commented, taking a moment to fondle Arthur’s ass. Arthur still gripped the pestle tightly, his knuckles white, but he hadn’t even managed to add anything to the mortar before giving in to Alfred. “C’mon, Artie. What happened to geometric progression?”

Arthur’s glare would have been terrifying, but with his cheeks flushed so pink and his eyes getting teary with pleasure Alfred only felt more desire. “I swear to God, if you don’t fuck me right now, I’m going to take this pestle and shove it up _your_ arse,” Arthur spat, then yelped as Alfred slapped his ass lightly. 

“That’s a good idea! Let’s take it home with us tonight and we can use it on you,” Alfred replied cheerfully, his hands going to his own trousers. “You’re so kinky, Artie. Anything is a sex toy to you.”

“S-shut up, I didn’t…” Arthur trailed off as he heard Alfred slicking himself up with more aqueous cream, the blunt head of his cock already positioned against Arthur’s hole. 

“I bet you actually like this,” Alfred murmured into his ear, his hands gripping Arthur’s hips tightly. “I bet you love knowing that someone could walk in at any moment and they’d know. They’d know that you love being fucked hard and rough, that you’re really just a slut dressed up in such respectable clothing—”

“Just hurry up—” Arthur growled and shoved himself backwards, impaling himself in one smooth stroke. They both gasped, stilling for a moment, before Alfred reached up and wrenched Arthur’s head back by his hair, just the way the Englishman liked it.

“Just be patient, sweetheart,” he said, his gentle tone contrasting greatly with his grip on Arthur. “Have I ever left you unsatisfied?”

Arthur slowly shook his head. As soon as Alfred let go, Arthur curled forward over the compounding slab, his cheek flat against what looked like a coal tar stain. 

They needed to hurry up. The lunch rush would be coming in soon. Alfred carefully pulled out until only the tip remained inside, then slammed back in. The rhythm quickly built up until Arthur’s breathless gasps turned into loud cries that seemed to echo around the dispensary. Alfred bodily pressed him against the bench and covered Arthur’s mouth, whispering dirty promises into his ear as he continued his rough thrusts. Arthur was responding in kind, his hips rocking back to meet each and every thrust. 

Arthur’s hand reached down to fist his own erection, but Alfred captured both hands in one of his own and pinned them down next to the container of salicylic acid. “You’re going to come when I tell you to, and not before,” he growled, and he felt Arthur nod. 

All too soon, he could feel the pleasure building up. Arthur was lost, his eyes glazed and tears spilling down his cheeks as Alfred fucked him ruthlessly. He cried out with each and every thrust, his chest heaving. Alfred couldn’t think of a cuter or more provocative sight. 

God, he loved his man. 

Finally, he uncovered Arthur’s mouth and reached down to stroke him quickly. “Come on, sweetheart. Come for me.”

The cry that left Arthur as he orgasmed was a sound that Alfred would never get sick of. He felt Arthur shudder in his hold, spasming around him—and then Alfred, too, was gone. 

When he came back to himself he was slumped over Arthur, the Englishman still pressed against the bench top. He gently flipped Arthur over and pressed their lips together. “I love you,” he told him seriously. 

“I love you, too,” Arthur breathed, his gaze adoring. Alfred pressed their foreheads together for a moment, revelling in being so close to the person he loved. 

The bell dinged. 

“Hello? Anyone there? Mr Kirkland, is my grandfather’s cream ready yet?”

Arthur’s glare was acidic, but all Alfred could do was laugh and press another quick kiss to his lips.


End file.
